


Snapdragon

by Treagus



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Autism, Autistic Newt Scamander, Newt loves his tea, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treagus/pseuds/Treagus
Summary: After the excitement and drama of the final fight in the subway, and losing Jacob to Rappaport's Law, the remaining trio find themselves solidifying their tentative friendships.An exploration of Queenie's struggle as an untrained legilimens, Newt's autism and general social anxieties, and Tina's struggle with feelings of inadequacy.Set in the short period before Newt leaves for England at the end of the first film.





	1. Deafening Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the girls who alpha-read this and kept me from trashing the entire thing, and a big thank-you to [Kemara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemara) for being a great beta!

The only sound in the flat was the light ticking of the mantel clock.

Soft snow cushioned the hustle and bustle of New York; streetcars chuffing along like ghosts of their usually clunky selves. Silence seeped through brownstone walls to enfold Newt as he sat scribbling in his journal, his long legs playing the part of a makeshift desk.

He lived for peaceful moments like this, when his creatures were fed and settled for the evening, and he could lose himself to sorting out his many observations.

Calloused fingers curved absentmindedly, and his tea sloshed as the cup floated from the table to his waiting hand. Newt’s eyelashes brushed his cheeks when he took a moment to breathe in the fine vapours of his exotic brew, only for half the drink to scorch his chest when the sound of a door slammed through the serenity of the evening.

Loud steps – stomps, really – scaled the stairs outside the flat. The solid double doors muffled the sound before they, too, rattled on their hinges as Queenie shouldered her way into the apartment, turning to fling them shut. She fought briefly with her coat, grunting when her bracelet caught on the sleeve, before letting it all fall on the chair by the door.

Newt’s eyebrows were skimming his hairline when she turned and noticed him; teacup still halfway to his lips. He’d never seen her so worked up, like an angry nundu with golden curls for barbs.

Queenie glared at him, eyes simmering as she plucked the thought from his head. He swallowed sharply and found himself suddenly very interested in the patterns on the carpet. Really they were terribly captivating patterns…

Newt let out the breath he’d been holding when the bedroom doors slid sharply into place behind him; he hadn’t missed the irritation in her steps as she’d crossed the flat, but words had gotten caught somewhere between his surprise and his guilt. He really was an ace when it came to making a situation awkward, and now he’d managed it without even opening his mouth. Lovely.

Tension built in his chest as Newt eyed his case. He briefly considered retiring to his shed for the evening, but thought better of it; Tina had said she would be arriving late tonight, and he’d feel guilty leaving Queenie to stew on her own. Not that he was very good company for this sort of thing, but he could at least put in the effort. Would it be rude to knock? He certainly wouldn’t leave any of his creatures to fret on their own if he could help it..

A drawer slammed in the bedroom.

He took in a deep breath and let it out with a puff of his cheeks. Best wait.

Rather than dwell on his social ineptitude, he flicked his fingers to oust the wet stain on his shirt, and finally took a sip of what had survived of his tea. Flipping through the notes he’d begun to sort, he put pen to paper again. Newt had documented the monthly patterns of his mooncalves: how they reacted to the waxing and waning of the moon, the tidal force it seemed to hold over them throughout the cycle of the day, much like the effect it had on the ocean. He found it absolutely fascinating, watching their emotions swayed by something so far removed.

Little by little, the many records and their annotations solidified as concrete conclusions. Ink couldn’t dry fast enough as weeks of scientific observation grew into clear, illustrative prose: the mooncalf is important, and here was the proof. There would, of course, be significant differences between wild mooncalves and the ones bred in captivity; a wizard could only mimic so much of the moon’s properties inside an expanded suitcase, after all, however he was confident that he’d collected enough data to at least—

“Did Teenie say she’d be home for dinner?”

Thoughts lagging, Newt blinked as he watched Queenie slide jars around on the kitchen shelf, until he realized he’d been asked a question. “Oh! Um, yes actually. Tina mentioned a late meeting but said she should make it on time to sit with us.”

He glanced at the clock. Half past seven already? Bugger. When had Queenie come out of the bedroom?

He rolled to his feet, tucking his manuscript away in an expanded pocket. His fingers slid over his coat seam as he watched Queenie. She wasn’t facing him, but she did seem more composed now, flipping through a small recipe book, her wand swishing to summon their meal’s ingredients. Gathering his courage with a deep breath, he walked slowly over to her, not wanting to startle her while her back was turned.

“Um, Quee—”

Too close. She squeaked and the last jar she’d spelled spun off the shelf towards the floor. Newt reached out a quick hand and caught it, bent low and contrite as he held it out to her. “No harm done?” His eyes flicked up at her and he smiled sheepishly. She stared down at him with one eyebrow raised. Hippogriffs came to mind then, tall and proud, but so very skittish if not approached in just the right way.

“Of course not,” she grumbled, somehow sweetly, and swished her wand to send the jar to work.

Newt ducked around her and took his usual place at the table, watching her putter about the kitchen. The grace he’d come to expect in her movements was gone, and she flicked her wand with a rigidity he would have attributed more to Tina’s indifference towards cooking.

“Queenie?” he tried again, almost in a whisper.

“Hmm?” She didn’t turn to face him, hiding her lack of smiles and dimples. She stirred the pot by hand now, the sauce sloshing over the sides.

Newt bit the inside of his lip, not quite sure if he was about to kick a Doxies’ nest, so to speak. “I just- I mean- Are you alright?” He picked nervously at a loose thread on his trousers and tried to sound more nonchalant. “Did something happen at work today?”

Her shoulders rose as she took in a very deep, grounding breath, and blew it out with an exasperated huff. “It was Abernathy again, and that creepy whats-his-name in accounting, and all the guys, really. They’re so….so...” She tapped the spoon on the side of the pot, _hard_. “I’m just so burned out by _men_ right now!”

_Ah._ There were the golden barbs again. Newt stiffened, feeling the color drain from his cheeks. He shot up to his feet, fingers nearly vibrating against the seam of his coat. “I... I’ll go, then. Tina should be home soon now and…er?” He started towards his case, but froze at Queenie’s frustrated growl.

“Oh, Newt! Don’t _bother_ , dinner’s almost ready anyway,” she griped. “Besides,” she turned up the charm, “You’re not like most men, are ya honey?”

Newt blinked. What was he meant to make of that? Thoroughly flummoxed, he glanced back at her through his fringe, hoping she’d elaborate, but she was still just stirring the pot. Her voice had seemed off, but if she’d read his frustration, the legilimens didn’t show it.

“No. I suppose I’m not.” He decided to take her words at face value. Most of the creatures in his case had suffered mistreatment in some shape or form, and always came to trust him with time. This should be no different, he reasoned, as he approached the table again. Deciding that quiet company might be best now, he pulled out his journal and continued where he’d left off; Mooncalves and moonlight.

It really was very fascinating how moody they could be when the moon was waning, much less prone to cooing and singing as they swayed on the rocks. Newt wondered if other creatures felt the pull of the moon, aside from werewolves. Timberwolves, perhaps? He’d read they howl at the moon for some reason. Could that be the reason werewolves have a lunar link, or was there something about human physiologies that triggered the reaction? That was certainly something to consider. If humans were affected by the moon, it certainly wasn’t anything drastic, otherwise society as a whole would function on a strict monthly cycle. Perhaps some were more sensitive than others to the moon? On a social level, people were unpredictable. When one considered the biological constants, however, there were some things that could be calculated with varying degrees of success: General aging patterns, gestation periods, disease progression, female menstruation… That was a monthly cycle wasn’t it? He hadn’t considered mooncalf mating habits in relation to the moon!

Newt scribbled faster as his mind raced. _Did mooncalf cows have the same type of monthly cycle as human females? If so this could explain a lot about mood swings in both species—_

“Newt!” His pen skittered across the table when Queenie cut through his thoughts. He gaped up at her, shocked.

“I ain’t no prude but gol- _lee_ , how’d you think up so much phonus balonus!?” Her curls bounced when she planted her hands on her hips, glowering at him.

_Oh_. He could feel the blush creep from his chest up to his ears as he realized where his thoughts had led him. Not the most gentlemanly of contemplations. Eyes down, he bit his lip and tried to make sense of what he’d been thinking.

“I hadn’t meant... I mean... It was just... a-an observation. Barely even a theory.” His mouth snapped shut. Newt could hardly remember what had led him to that last thought. His ruminations weren’t always logical; Random connections just came to him and moved on so quickly there was no time to sort it out until later. That’s why he took notes; To review and organize, and toss the weaker theories.

A soft click and shuffle behind him ended the standoff and signalled Tina’s arrival. She sniffed the air, groaning in hunger. “Mercy Lewis, that smells like heaven.” Newt turned his head slightly, watching her make her drowsy way over to them before she noticed the tension in the air.

“Hullo, Tina.” He sat up straighter in greeting, still too uncomfortable to allow his eyes to roam upwards.

“...Hi...” she replied, almost a question. The elder Goldstein raised an eyebrow at her sister, who just hummed an innocent tune and turned towards the stove, summoning plates over to serve dinner. Tina sighed and flicked her own wand towards the cupboards.

Napkins and cutlery drifted over to the table, one cup nudging at Newt’s journal. He caught the hint and sprang up to deposit his book and suit coat in the living room before properly seating himself at the table. “Thank you, Queenie, this does smell heavenly,” he remarked quietly as the food slid onto his plate.

“Oh you flatterer, you.” Queenie’s sing-song mood was firmly back into place, and Newt hunched slightly to hide his grin. Picking up on people’s cues was never an skill he could boast having, but even he couldn’t miss how quickly the moody blonde had burst into sunshine the moment Tina had given her their patented sibling look. It warmed him a little to know that they could cheer each other up like that; he’d certainly never expect anything of the sort with his own brother. They tended to irritate or neglect each other most the time.

Speaking of neglect…

Newt swallowed his mouthful swiftly, his hand sliding just shy of touching Tina’s on the table. “So sorry, Tina, how was your day?” He glanced up at her briefly before taking up his fork again.

“Oh you know, more of the same.” She waved her hand in exasperation. “They’re piling on the paperwork now that Grindelwald is in America.”

“They’ve got you doing most of the work, from the looks of it,” Queenie griped, eyeing Tina’s ink-stained fingers.

“The whole department’s got mountains of it to deal with, Queenie. Every wand in the city is gonna end up triple-checked by the end of the month at this rate, and it’s a good thing, really. Castucci’s got at least seventy coming through my desk every morning–”

“Geez Louise.” Queenie interrupted.

Newt’s eyebrows rose. _Seventy! That does seem excessive. Bureaucracy certainly moves faster here._

“Mornings aren’t so bad,” Tina shrugged, “the afternoon is heavier, they apparate straight in after work and there’s fewer of us by then...”

_The Ministry may as well be managed by flobberworms, at the rate things move back home._ Newt couldn’t imagine any of the old codgers on top making any attempt at hurrying things along. _America seems to be run more like a colony of grindylows; Swift and violent justice–_

“That what the meeting was about?” Queenie asked. Tina nodded, cringing.

_–and woe to those who don’t comply. Mooncalves are the complete opposite in terms of community aggression._

Queenie frowned, her sister’s silence loud and clear to her. “Teen, that ain’t fair to you. You’re doing your job, and you ain’t even really trained for this sort of thing!”

“I have to prove I can handle it.” Newt caught her shrug from the corner of his eye, not missing the fact that she’d barely touched her plate since they’d sat down. “That’s how I got to be an Auror in the first place. Now I’m right back down with the grad kids.”

_Even juvenile grindies are expected to perform,_ his thoughts forged on, his mind refusing to be still when such seductive parallels presented themselves. _The initiation process is incredibly violent but it does get results. The material on mooncalves is nearly complete, it could be interesting to catalog sociocultural progression differences between their species._

Queenie shot Newt a confused glance before going on with her rant. “You can’t let Castucci talk to you like that! You’re fifty times the wizard he is, and you’re a _witch!_ ”

_Both species breed faster than poppies, but aggression, or lack thereof, could explain fluctuations in population growth once outside variables are removed._

“Teenie,” her voice took on a caustic note, “you could hex circles around him and they’ve got you under his boot like a.. a..”

_Especially when one considers that grindylow often eat their youn-_

_**“NEWT!”** _

The table, and all its contents, rattled when it stopped Newt from curling into himself, his knees stinging from the impact. He’d shot his hand up as well, instinctively creating a visual barrier while trying to exude an air of meek caution. Queenie’s eyes were sharp and fierce and fully focused on him, and all he could manage was a tight-lipped staring contest with the edge of her jaw.

“Okay, _what_ is going on?” Tina's fork clattered to her plate, her attempt at authority dampened with fatigue. 

Queenie seemed to shrink a bit under Tina’s glare. “It’s just... We’re havin’ a chat here and all Newt can think about is mooncalves and grindythings and stuff that don’t make sense!”

Both of their gazes on him was too much now, and he felt himself start to panic. He found a spot on the table to focus on, cautiously lowering his hand as well. “I’m sorry, Queenie, I don’t mean to—” 

“I know, honey.” She put her hand on his arm, pulling it back when he stiffened. “But couldn’t you tone it down just a bit? Your gears are grinding so loud I can’t think!”

“Queenie, you’re being rude,” Tina scolded, and the younger Goldstein had the decency to look chastened.

“No, Tina it’s– she’s quite right.” Newt stood and spun to push his chair in. “I’ve made an absolute pest of myself this evening. I should keep away from the niffler, he’s a terrible influence.” He huffed out an embarrassed laugh, eyes still glued to the table. “I’ll see to my creatures and leave you two to... um...” He gestured vaguely with his hand, _converse in peace._

He bowed lightly, swiftly, and practically flew down into his case. He flicked his wand back up out of the opening briefly, sending his plate and cutlery to clean themselves up before the lid snapped shut behind him.


	2. Ishkabibble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worrying means you suffer twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor updates were also made to Chapter 1. It changes nothing in the story, just small edits and a bit of added description.  
> \- - -  
> Katie. Kemara.  
> You girls are an absolute gift to humanity.  
> Your patience is FAR deeper than you give yourself credit for.

They sat in silence, picking at the last of their meal. Queenie bit her lip, glancing up at Tina every so often, waiting for some hint at what to say.

She could feel her sister’s turmoil, exhaustion coming at odds with the drive to do better, to be better. Memories of past failures melded together with the week’s events. Her brush with death. The loss of Credence, and Jacob. The unknowns surrounding her mentor. Her questionable future in a career that she’d practically thrown away on a heartfelt whim. It was all so much, and so much of it matched Queenie’s own unresolved memories and stresses from the week that she wasn’t sure where Tina’s thoughts began and hers ended. Everything spun crazily in Tina’s mind, the sights and smells assaulting the legilimens as if she’d been there herself. Hot dogs, especially. The smell of a freshly prepared New York frank, extra mustard please, was strong. It was large and suddenly very much front and center in the auror’s thoughts; Queenie couldn’t help but drool at the sight of it.

She blinked back to reality, and found her sister smirking at her plate, trying hard to look nonchalant.

“It’s not fair when you do that,” Queenie grumbled.

“Then don’t read my mind.” Tina rolled up an especially large ball of spaghetti and shoved it in her mouth, swallowing only half of it before asking, “You gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to go chase after him?”

Queenie scrunched up her nose, “If you do, make sure you swallow the rest of that, first.”

Tina sat up straight, chewing away her mouthful before making a show of dabbing her napkin at the corners of her mouth, her movements delicate and ladylike as can be. Their eyes met and both girls failed at keeping a straight face before bursting out into snorts of laughter, Queenie’s mirth multiplying when her sister’s joyful waves wrapped around her. She wished she could send them back and share the bliss. 

Wouldn’t that be nice. 

Melancholy overtook her at the thought, and she picked at her plate again.

The rush of euphoria surrounding her twisted back towards uncertainty and concern, and a blanket of sympathy — almost empathy, but never pity — cradled her mind. Tina knew. It was the one thing Queenie never had to explain; loneliness in the overwhelming feedback she could always feel but never fully return, sometimes not even completely understand. 

She certainly hadn’t understood Newt’s disjointed hooey tonight. Queenie rested her cheek on one hand, fork swinging loosely, and stared at Newt's chair. By the time she’d figured out one of his trains of thought, it was speeding away, another screeching in to take the spot. Brits were already hard to read, but this one didn’t seem to let himself stop to understand his own internal monologue, so how could she?

“It wasn't his fault.”

Queenie hadn't meant to say it, but there it was. She fiddled with the napkin in her lap and shrugged when interest and anticipation… curiosity?... mixed in with everything else. Tina could feel so much so fast. “He was getting on my nerves something awful, but it wasn't his fault. I was already having a crummy day and he was just trying to be helpful, you know? But criminy, he thinks the most rude things.” 

Mild shock spiraled towards her, a brief memory shining through: Newt’s sad blue-green eyes watching her while he made a clear effort to listen to the dismissed auror at the Blind Pig, before Tina shut the thought down. Hot dogs again. Queenie rolled her eyes at her for that. “His thoughts are all raw and he doesn't even question it. Most guys know they're being... you know... crude. But he just goes on and on and doesn't even realize. I just didn’t have the patience tonight.”

“Did something happen at work?” Tina was uneasy, clearly expecting another crisis to add itself to the week, and Queenie really couldn’t blame her. “We were so busy today, I didn’t catch the usual gossip.”

Queenie scoffed. “You don’t gossip anyway.”

“I listen.”

“Eavesdropper.”

“You should talk.”

Queenie graced that remark with a sarcastic tilt of her head, sticking her tongue out at her sister. Tina just raised her eyebrows, urging her to get on with it.

She examined her nails absently before leaning her chin on the same hand. “Nothing specific happened, really. Just… I’m getting so sick of the guys at the office. They really ticked me off today.” She curled her lip, nose scrunching up along with it. “You know, Abernathy won’t quit following me around? Oh, but he thinks he’s real subtle, comin’ over to ask for another cup of coffee every twenty minutes, like I don’t see him ogling the goods.” 

Tina leaned back in her chair, frowning a bit, conflicted. Not quite jealous, but the guys never really stopped to look at her twice. Or at all. Tina didn’t want that much attention anyway, and Queenie could tell she was just as annoyed with both of their situations. Men were such shallow pigs.

Queenie ran a finger along the edge of her plate, scooping up the last bit of sauce and popped it into her mouth. “I told Newt I was sick of men and he thought I meant him, too. He’s so dramatic, he almost ran off to hide in his suitcase,” she giggled. He’d looked so confused when she wouldn’t throw him a bone. “I told him not to bother but gosh, maybe I should have let him go. He embarrassed himself somethin’ awful just before you walked in.”

Tina cocked an eyebrow again — she was all about the eyebrows tonight, wasn’t she. A flicker of amusement, and even more curiosity, pushed through, and Queenie reached for the thought behind it.

“I really shouldn't tell you. You're the one who's always saying that people's thoughts are for them to share,” she teased, turning her attention to their empty plates and sending them off to the sink. She flicking her wand towards the tin of cocoa.

“You already had it out with him right in front of me, so I might as well know.” Tina bit her lip, her eyes twinkling. She was real cute when she did that. If she’d take the time to do something with her hair and maybe dress a little nicer, she could easily get the fellas to pay attention. Or maybe even a certain special fella...

Steaming mugs of cocoa drifted into their waiting hands, and the girls made their way over to the cozier living room, Queenie diving right in to her story like the juicy bit of gossip it was. “He’s working on that book still. It’s really gonna be somethin’, I think, but he’s thinking all over the place and I can’t really... It don’t all make sense. Which is fine, really. It’s none of my beeswax. But then he’ll get this one big thought and he gets real excited.” She settled on the sofa, pushing a pillow over to Tina’s side while her sister stoked the fire. “It’s like he’s running around trying to catch all of the bits of it before it gets away, yelling out every little thought he catches. He was thinkin’ about those mooncalves, the ones with the real big eyes. And werewolves, and something about how they all change with the moon, and the moon changes every month… and somehow that got all strung up together and he thought what if women change every month, and maybe that’s why we get moody, like werewolves, during… you know... and I just snapped at him because well, what a thing to think!”

Tina gaped. Queenie couldn’t tell what she was feeling, because Tina wasn’t even really sure herself. Indignation? Shock? She didn’t seem all that upset.. Then a bubbling mass of whimsy surged from her mind and she burst out laughing, pulling Queenie in with her. It was so silly, and gosh they were both exhausted and everything seemed so funny now. Where had Newt even learned about any of this, and to compare it with his creatures at all! They gasped and giggled, Tina voicing her shock at the whole thing, until the warmth of the fire and and cocoa lulled them into pleasant drowsiness. 

Queenie leaned over until her head was practically in Tina’s lap, feeling the leftover heat of her empty mug as she fiddled with it. “It’s such a stupid thing to get mad about, isn’t it. Guys bein’ guys. I mean, with everything else going on...” 

Tina nodded slowly. “Why _are_ you letting it get to you all of a sudden?”

She closed her eyes when Tina ran her fingers through her curls. “I miss Jacob. I miss him somethin’ awful.”

“That bad huh?”

“That _good_ , Teen.” She tilted her head back, meeting Tina’s eyes. “He’s really somethin’ special, you know? I meant it when I said there weren’t nobody else like him.” There really wasn’t. She’d only shared a few precious moments with the sunny, adorable man, but that was all she needed to get to know somebody. He was a good man, holding on to a positive outlook even after everything life had thrown at him. “He’s sweet. I mean, yeah his first thoughts were bombshell legs and bouncy curls, but he wasn’t thinkin’ I’m easy or nothin’ like that. He just thought… _WOW_. And then with how quick he was to help out Newt even though he was sick and all, and how easy he got along with everything that happened even though he ain’t ever seen anything like us before… He’s special, Teen.”

“Oh, Queenie.” Tina’s eyes watered and she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, and Queenie couldn’t ignore her thoughts if she tried. The entire document of Rappaport’s Law flew by, entire sections dedicated to every type of no-maj interaction banned and allowed. Reports Tina had to sign off on personally, when she’d had to intervene in situations just like this one. All the tears of those who’d have to watch their friends and lovers obliviated, forgetting they ever existed. The sight of Queenie thrown in a cell with the very final sound of the door clanging shut echoed painfully. Tina’s jaw clenched and she took a shuddering breath. _A no-maj. Why did it have to be a no-maj. There was no way this could end well._

Queenie shot up in her seat, slapping Tina’s hand out of her hair. “How can you say that!?”

Tina closed her eyes, the movement letting a tear run down her cheek. “I didn’t say anything, Queenie.” Her voice was frustratingly soft. “Stay out of my–”

“That ain’t _FAIR_ , Teen! How else am I supposed to do this if you won’t say it yourself?” Her nails bit into her palms, and she almost tripped on her skirt in her rush to get off the sofa. “I can’t talk to you like this!” 

“You can’t talk to me because you won’t let me _think_ , Queenie. We’ve been through this. Just because I’m thinking something, doesn’t mean I’ll still agree with it after I’m done thinking it!” She spun her hand at her temple, and finally looked up at her sister. “Let me think for myself before you decide what I’m gonna say.”

“I know what you’re gonna say, Teen. I don’t even need to read your mind. You’re a stickler for rules and Jacob’s a no-maj so we can’t ever even try. Because _it’s the law_.” She was so sick of that attitude. “Well the law is why everything got so balled up this week in the first place! You nearly got Newt’s whole zoo destroyed. You almost got yourself KILLED! All because you had to be the perfect law-abiding wand-inspector so you could get your dream job back!” Queenie immediately regretted her words, shooting her hand up over her mouth and wishing she could take it back. She watched Tina’s face crumple, hurt and guilt overshadowing all of her sister’s thoughts and feelings, and hated this; hated knowing she’d taken things too far again. Oh god, she really hadn’t meant to. “Teen—”

“Don’t,” Tina sobbed, and Queenie felt like the room was shrinking as Tina cut herself off from her. “Just... don’t.” She tucked her legs up until her chin rested on them, and stared at the fire, bottom lip trembling. The ex-auror could muster powerful occlumency when she truly wanted to, building a heavy, suffocating wall around her mind. She pushed every psychic tendril away until Queenie was left with nothing but crushing silence, feeling numb and unsteady.

Queenie opened her mouth to try to apologize again, but knew there would be no reasoning with her sister when she was like this; Tina wouldn't even look at her while she brooded, all of her energy going into keeping her sister out. Separate. Alone. 

“Oooh be that way, then.” Queenie beat it to their bedroom, the doors slamming shut with a wave of her wand. At least this way she had the illusion of being alone. She was too used to living in her sister’s head; once Tina dropped the walls around her mind, Queenie wouldn’t be able to stay out if she tried, and they’d both regret being so stubborn.

She leaned back against the door, the wood echoing her frustration with each bitter thump of her head.. Why couldn’t things just work out nice and easy for a change? Why’d she have to be such a hothead!? She beat the door with her fist, letting out a sharp growl before stumbling over to the bed, not bothering to change before throwing herself onto it. The pillow was cool and soft, easing her headache, cradling her, and she curled herself around it, embracing the calm before the storm. It was easier if she didn’t fight it, at first.

The room grew even quieter, completely still as though the air itself had stopped moving, and she held her breath. The dark void suffocating her mind began to crack, and she could almost hear the sound as it burst apart, pulling her into Tina’s turbulence. She had to resist the tug, had to keep track of who she was, or risk getting lost in Tina’s turmoil until her sister let go. It was hard, at first. She felt herself spinning violently around the deaths of their parents, a grief they both shared so deeply that there was no telling where Tina’s thoughts ended and hers began. She screamed into her pillow, frustrated and tired of this. _Please just stop!_

Their memories tumbled together until her sister’s unique experiences sorted themselves out, and Queenie pulled away to float at a distance, settling back into her space as witness to someone else’s mind.

She could hear Tina sobbing now, and really just wanted to run to her and hold her. She curled up tighter around her pillow instead. Queenie wanted to hold her and laugh at how stupid all of this was but she knew she’d really pushed it this time, and Tina was stubborn; she’d want to wallow in her misery alone for now.

Queenie sniffled, groaning at the mess she’d made of her pillow, tears and mascara smeared over the cover. She sighed and flipped it over, no energy left to deal with it. She tossed her wand on the night table, spelling the light off on the way, and watched the empty space on Tina’s side of the room. Her mind felt fuzzy, completely drained as she sank into sleep, and she knew that she wouldn’t dream at all tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this one,  
> a whole heck of a lot.  
> Mixing minds isn't easy,  
> even less so with a plot.  
> (I'm not a poet. Pls don't kill me!)  
> \- - -  
> I have social networks now. And I draw. Wee!  
> Send me prompts!  
> Twitter: @Treagusthinks  
> Tumblr: Treagus.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm currently trying to improve my writing very seriously, and am open to any and all critiques and suggestions on how my works can be improved. Please, do mention it if you'd have done something differently, or if you can think of any way this could have been better.


End file.
